A Journey Called Life
by Someone the World Forgot
Summary: They go through hardships, laughter, happiness, tears. This is life. It is a journey. But this journey, is one you'll never forget. These are all one-shots, or two-shots at the most. ALL RIGHTS GO TO KIERA CASS. This one-shot is dedicated to Amanda Morris.
1. Chapter 1

**So basically this takes place after the One. It's a bit of a mix of AU and Clarkson and Amberly's deaths in the One**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

The palace guards pull out a gun and starts firing at the crowd. All hell breaks loose. Gunfire exploding, people screaming their last screams. It is chaos. But above all that noise, Maxon and America can hear it loud and clear— "Come on, guys, get the King and Queen!"

Maxon and America run to the safe room. Guards everywhere are protecting them, forming a tight circle. No one can get the King and Quen without shooting down the guards first. But there are too many of them. They arrive at the entrance. They are safe. Without a second to lose, they rush into the safe room. They are safe. They are safe.

But not quite.

When Maxon pushes the hidden door open, the guards guarding them pull out a gun. "Not so fast, your Majesties." One of them says, smiling an evil smile. "You guys walked into our trap."

In the blink of an eye, one of the other guards take an aim at Maxon's heart. He braces himself for the pain to come. But it doesn't. America jumps in front of it, and the bullet is embedded in her skin. She crumples to the ground. "AMERICA!" Maxon screams. She doesn't respond, but he swears he can see her chest rising and falling a bit. She's alive, but barely.

Some other palace guards, this time, real ones, rush to the scene and take out the Southern rebels posing as palace guards. When they're all dead, the palace guards rush to America' side. She is bleeding heavily, they shot her in the chest. She doesn't have much longer to live. They gently carry her to the safe room and set her on the ground.

One of the guards, Officer Leger, sinks to his knees. "Mer," he whispers. "Don't go. Maxon needs you. I need you." Maxon feels a twinge of jealousy. Who does that guard think he is? Sure, he was America's ex, but she's married to Maxon, not Aspen! Aspen's married to Lucy!

America smiles faintly. "It's alright, Aspen. You can survive without me. I'm just a sister. Kamber and Celia are, too. And Lucy can be there to help." She pauses, and coughs out a bit of blood.

Maxon takes her small, beautiful hand in his. "America, please, don't go!"

America shakes her head. "Even the best doctor in the world can't save me now. My time has come. I have to go. Never forget me, Maxon. Marry Kriss so he can be your queen. I love you. I believe that you will be a great king. I love you, Maxon."

"How can you give up your life so easily for me? You sacrificed your life to save me! Why?"

"Because sometimes it's worth it to give your life up to someone you love. Cherish this "second life" I gave you, Maxon. You may never get another one. I—" she doesn't finish her sentence. Her hand falls limp. In a moment, Maxon can feel her radiance, her beauty, her life, slipping away. She's gone.

"I love you, my dear America." Maxon says and loses it. He cries. He doesn't care who's watching. The love of his life is dead. Suddenly, he feels someone hugging him. Aspen. He has tears in his eyes, too.

America's death brought them closer together. Only if it wasn't through the one person's death they cared most about.

* * *

**Seems like I have a real knack at writing death scenes. I wonder what wrong with me...? Okay, I promise, next one-shot/drabble won't include a death! Okay?**

**Sawwy if you cried. I hate making people cry :(**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys!**

**Okay, this is obviously AU. This one, I will do a two-shot. It might be the next chapter, it might not. Depends. **

**going for the win: okay, I can't promise you that, but I'll try my best. Maybe there'll be one more character death, but that's it. And that's a maybe. **

**Happy reading!**

* * *

•Shattered•

This is it. Today, Clarkson will be announcing to us—and Illéa—who he chooses. Me, Samantha, or Macy. Me, Sam, or Macy. Prince Clarkson comes into the room. Macy is front of him on his left, Sam directly in front, and I on his right.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Alex Fadaye's voice booms. "Today, his Highness, Prince Clarkson, will be announcing who he will choose as his wife and future queen of Illéa; Lady Amberly Station, Lady Samantha Rodgers, or Lady Macy Prior. Without further ado, Prince Clarkson!"

Clarkson smiles. "Thank you, Alex." He turns to us. "While the three of you are all lovely ladies, I can only choose one to be my wife."

He turns to Macy. "Lady Macy, you are a very smart and resourceful lady. You have a lot of love in your heart. You are a gentle person and very patient. You have many qualities that would make you a wonderful queen. If I send you home tonight, I will remember your good qualities and hope that your husband would cherish those qualities. Thank you for being here these past few weeks." He bows his head and kisses her hand.

Sam is next. "Lady Samantha, or Lady Sam, as you prefer, you are a very independent lady. You are kind and loving, yes, you are, but you are not to be pushed around. You are very firm in your beliefs and refuse to be taken advantage of. This is a very good quality to have when in a meeting, and as queen. If you are not my chosen one tonight, I won't t forget you and how you did not like to be pushed around. If that happens, your husband will cherish your stubbornness. Thank you for being here these past few weeks." He bows his head and kisses he hand, like he did with Macy.

I am last. "Lady Amberly, you have a very calm demeanor that calms everyone in the room, even the angriest person, or the most anxious person. You are level-headed and intelligent. You are a very loving person. You do not like to be pushed around, but you like compromising and are skilled at settling arguments. These are all very queenly personalities. If you are not the One, I will still remember you, and I hope your husband would love your loving personality." He does the same thing he did to Macy and Sam to me.

Clarkson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, where the ring sits, I presume. He walks by Macy, Sam, and I in a full circle and stops at Macy. He gets down on one knee and opens it. "Lady Macy Prior, will you marry me?"

I'm shattered. My heart has broken into a million pieces, and no one can pick it all up to make it whole again. I really thought he'd propose to me. I really did. He told me he loved me dozens of times. Did he really mean that?

I don't think so. Or maybe he told Macy hundreds of times. Then those times he told me aren't worth anything.

I know what's going to happen next. Macy's obviously going to say yes. It's obvious. Anyone would. But I still keep a smile on my face and concentrate on letting my calmness flow. At least, I hope it's still radiating.

Macy covers her mouth with her hand. She's unable to speak, joy glowing from her face. "Yes," she manages to squeak out, "yes, yes, YES!"

I feel the smile slipping, so I plaster it on my face and hope it stays. "And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of the Selection! Good night, citizens of Illéa! Congratulations, Prince Clarkson and Lady Macy!" Alex smiles. The cameras turn off.

Sam and I congratulate Macy on her engagement and we do a group hug. "I'm going to miss you guys," Macy says.

"Oh, really?" Sam mischievously wiggles her eyebrows. "Are you sure, or will you be too busy doing something else to remember us?"

Macy slaps her. "Uh, no!" A tint of red creeps on her cheeks.

"Hey, why did you slap me?" Sam says innocently, smirking. "I meant that you'd be too busy studying to be queen and doing that that princess-y stuff. And going to meetings too. Did I say something entirely different? Oops."

"Good try, Sam. Your 'innocence' didn't work." I say, trying not to laugh. "I'm going back to bed, now. I woke up too early today." I add.

"Yea, me too. Besides, I think you have other guests to talk to. I hate parties, you know. Even ones my friends host." Sam yawns.

Macy doesn't seem to catch on. "Okay, yeah, you're right. See ya in the morning!" Macy waves and then leaves.

Sam and I curtsey to King Porter and Queen Abby at the staircase and then we depart to our respective rooms. The wave of emotions come the millisecond I shut my door. Pain, sadness, heartbreak, betrayal—but most of all, confusion. Did I do something wrong yesterday that made him change his mind? Were all those kisses and "I love you's" meaningless? Did he really not love me? Then why did he keep me here?

I cry myself to sleep. My dreams, my hopes—crushed. I'm shattered inside.

* * *

The next morning, I hug Macy and Sam one last time after exchanging addresses so we can keep in contact with each other. I pick up my suitcase and walk to the car to await my flight back home.

My heart will never be the same again. I love Clarkson, I really do. But he loves someone else more, and I have to accept that. I can and I will, but it will take a long time. Maybe once I find someone who I truly love and he loves me back, maybe my heart can whole, with a small part missing.

But as for now, I can only hope.

* * *

**Yea, I know, I know. I'm a very depressing person, huh? The part two of this will be either in Chapter three or four. As usual, I'm very open to suggestions for one-shots, drabbles, etc. And any criticism on how to improve my writing is welcome, of course! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This is modern-day Selection and AU. Apsen's totally out of character. Sawwy Team Aspen. This is something totally random that popped into my mind. So ... it's weird. **

**Reviews:**

**flowergirl123456: Thanks! And yea, I know. Next chapter will have that ... ;P**

**HorseGalFangirl9 (1 and 2): Sure! Of course! And the credit would be AWESOME, thanks! And sawwy girlie. I can and I did. I can promise you that there will be no more America deaths, though. But maybe other character deaths. **

**Happy reading!**

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•We Are Never Getting Back Together•

"Hey, Max!" I hear a voice yell. I whip my head around and see Marlee and Carter walk into the café. I wave them over. "Hey!" I exclaim the moment they plop down on our booth. "How's it going?"

Marlee groans. "Horrible. I don't see how Mrs. G can love biology. This. Is. TORTURE!"

America glances around the small café. Several heads are turned, staring at us, hearing the last part of Marlee's outburst. "Um, Mar…" America whispers.

"That's was a bit too loud, was it?" Marlee asks. She looks around and sees the answer. "Whoops." We laugh.

Suddenly, a voice yells, "Mocha Frappuccino for Maxon, chai tea for America, Strawberries and crème Frappuccino for Angie, and Black coffee for Clara!"

America and I walk to the counter, along with a thirteen year old and a forty-year-old woman who can pass for the girl's mom. We take our drinks and walk back to where our friends sit. "Do you want anything?" I ask them. "Uh, yes, but—" Carter starts.

"My treat," America cuts in. She pulls out her wallet and grabs a $10 bill. My redheaded girlfriend gives it to Marlee, who squeals a thank-you and scurries off with Carter.

I grab my Frappe and take a long sip. "Mmm," I sigh. "Tastes so good."

"You look like you're going to marry it!" America says, laughing.

"Well, that's what you looked like when you tasted my mom's strawberry tarts for the first time."

"Hey! Even the best bakery's tarts aren't like that!" America objects.

"Well, yea, but you looked like you were going to marry them." I retort.

"Who's getting married now*?" A new voice says. I jump, startled, smacking my head on the window blind. Ow! I wince and rub my head. Nicoletta grins. "Sorry about that. I saw you here and decided you say hi." She looks around at the café. "I didn't know you guys like Starbucks."

"Well, now you know," Marlee says with a laugh.

We finish our drinks and walk onto Main Street. Suddenly, America walks right into someone. "Oof!" I hear her say. The person she crashes into helps her up. "Sorry about that," I hear her say.

"It's alright," he says. America's mouth falls open.

America POV

I stare at those green eyes I know so well. It's Aspen Leger. My former boyfriend.

"Mer?" He seems as stunned as I am.

"Um …" I can't seem to get any words out.

"America, do you know him?" Maxon asks.

"Of course she knows me. I'm her ex-boyfriend." Aspen says haughtily. "Even though I don't know why she broke up with me."

"Well, her reason makes total sense," Max snaps. "And wow, you're worse that America says you are. You cheated on her—MULTIPLE TIMES—and you say you don't know why?!"

Aspen is speechless.

"And before you say 'when?", like the other times I confronted you, let me have the honour of listing them." I scowl. "First time, with Shannon, kissing; second time, with Brittany, kissing; third time, with Sheila, making out; fourth …" I stop. "Do I need to continue?"

"Mer! I didn't mean to! I mean, it was just an accident … please, give me another chance!" Aspen pleads.

I snort. "Aspen, only someone as stupid as you would do that. First of all, you already asked me that dozens of times, every time I say no. What makes you think I will say 'yes' this time? And second of all, can't you see I'm dating someone?"

"And aren't you dating Lucy?" Maxon puts in.

"Well, umm …"

"I can't believe the nerve of you!" Maxon bursts out. "You cheated on America dozens of times, she has a boyfriend—me!—and I'm pretty sure you know that, so basically you're trying to steal her, and you already have Lucy! Do I feel sorry for her, putting up with your doings!" I smirk spreads on his face. "I think," he says slowly, "we should tell our good friend Lucy what happened today, so she won't have her heart broken again."

"Mer! Please! I love _you_," Aspen cries.

I've had enough. I walk right up to him and slap him smartly across his face. "You're lucky this time," I say. "Next time this happens, I'm going to let Maxon deal with you. Believe me, you won't like that. I'm going to say this one last time. I'm making this clear: We," I point to him and me, "are never, ever, EVER getting back together. You hear me?"

He nods, then scurries away. Maxon laughs. "Okay, that was taken care of. Where to next, guys?" He turns to Marlee, Carter, and Nicoletta standing behind us.

"That … was … intense," Marlee comments.

"Crap! Bio test tomorrow! I'm screwed. For real." Marlee suddenly exclaims.

"Thanks for reminding me," Nicoletta grumbles."Oh, and awesome Taylor Swift reference, by the way. Ya know, the thing you said to that big jerk?" she adds.

I smile. "Good thing _someone_ caught that."

"Well, I like her songs, so …"

"Really, I don't know you do!"

"Now you know!"

"Hey, didn't you steal that line from when you saw us at Starbucks?"

"I think so?"

"Hey, we copyrighted it first!"

"Good luck, America, with that! I don't think there is a lawsuit for 'stolen phrases'. And—"

"Wait." I stop. "I dig my Starbucks receipt out of my purse and grab a pen. I write: _Hello Aspen. Remember what I said earlier! We are never, ever, ever getting back together or else Maxon will pummel ya! ~America_

I slip it into the mail slot in his door. "Just a friendly reminder," I grin. "Nicoletta, what were you saying?"

"The copyright thing."

"Oh, right."

"…Yea, and also …"

"Dude, just shut up so we can walk in peace, girl!" Marlee interjects.

And we do.

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**Whoever can find the reference here to a Lorien Legacies book (Fall of Five) gets to collab with me on a one-shot OR submit a character for my other story OR get a sneak peek for part two of my Shattered two-shot :P Or something like that ... I rna out of ideas for options ... **

**Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. What's your favourite Starbucks Frappuccino drink? **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys!**

**So, this is part two of my two-shot, Shattered. **

**Nobody got the Fall of Five reference from my last previous one-shot, We Are Never Getting Back Together. The reference is when Nicoletta asks Ames and Max "Who's getting married now?". In Fall of the Five, Eight overhears Marina and Ella talking and how Ella has a crush on Nine. FUN FACT: I got the idea for We Are Never Getting Back Together because I was listening to Taylor Swift's song. **

**Reviews:**

**HorseGalFangirl9: Me too! She's awesome! Thanks for the compliment! And haha Aspen was super OCC, huh? Maybe ... *gives evil smile* I should make Maxon super OCC too! How does that sound, girlie? And thanks, a credit would be awesome! Really? Or just the crème ones? I can't have caffeine. Mine is green tea. :)**

**going for the win: awe, it's alright, buddy. He isn't :)**

**Happy reading! **

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•Picking Up the Pieces•

As I arrive back in my province, Honduragua, I see a crowd of people waiting for me, cheering for me. I smile, despite my heartbreak. All these people all love me, even though I didn't win. I see my family at the front of the crowd. "Amberly!" I hear my sisters, Ainsley and Adele, yell. "You're back!" She engulfs me in a hug. My parents and siblings join them. I am crushed in a mass of arms and bodies, but I now realize how much I missed them. The guard who accompanied me here hands me my suitcase. Aaron takes it instead, insisting that he carry it. My big brother's so sweet.

We reach our house, which isn't really all at far, and I walk to my room. I set my suitcase on my bed and unpack it. Before I left, my maids gave me a few dresses from the Selection for me to keep. I hang up the four dresses. The only things I have left from the Selection. From my maids. I miss them so much. They really are wonderful.

I don't know how long I sit on my bed, but after a while, my mom comes in and tells me it's time for dinner. I get up and walk to the kitchen and we start digging in. The food tastes so good. Sure, it's not as rich as the food during the Selection, but this is food that my mom made. Not by a chef. This is home food. This is heaven.

When we're done, a knock comes on the door. I walk over to it and see a young man, maybe about 20 years old. "Miss Amberly Station?" He greets, kissing my hand. "Pleased to meet you. I am Edward Collins."

I am thoroughly confused. What is this Edward guy doing here? "Um, hello. Please to meet you, Edward," I murmur.

"Oh, sorry, Amberly!" My mom exclaims. "Edward is here because he wants to have a chance with you. He's taking you out for a date. There will be more guys coming, I promise. The longer you stay in the Selection, the more suitors you have. He's just the first of many."

"Oh. Alright, then." I say, a bit flustered. He offers his arm and I take it. Then we set off into the night.

* * *

I groan and close the notebook. After I returned from my first date with Edward, the next day, I purchased a small black notebook from the store to keep track of my suitors. Their names, ages, Caste, job, personality, and whether or not I like them. I'm glad I did. So far, I've had … let's see … about twenty-two suitors. This is unbelievable! Many of them, like Edward, just wanted my good looks that the fact that I was in the Selection. Over half of them are big jerks. There are only four of them who are sweet and actually love me, not for my money or status. At least, I think they don't.

I look at my list again.

Edward NO

James NO

Brandon YES

Cory NO

Ethan YES

Andrew NO

Chris W. NO

Eric YES

Carey NO

Miles NO

Jeremy NO

Ben NO

I avert my eyes to the last few. All the suitors between Eric and Robert are horrible. One of them, Miles, tried to _make out_ with me. Ugh!

Chris C. NO

Robert YES

William NO

Avery NO

I hope Avery is the last one. I don't know how much more I can stand. But I have to admit, I love Robert more than any of those guys, even the ones who are actually _nice_. It doesn't matter what Caste he is. Even if he is an Eight, I will still love him. Maybe he will be the one who will mend my heart and make it whole, with only a sliver missing. That'll be good enough for me.

* * *

After we drop our nine-month-old Lizzy off to her grandma's (my mom's) house, Robert and I drive to our workplaces, which, coincidentally, is on the same street. I model and Robert is a military guard trainer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Robert biting his lip, a sign that he is nervous. "Rob, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Uh, nothing," he replies hastily.

I roll my eyes. "Rob, you're nervous about something. You're biting your lip. I can see that. Quit trying to hide whatever you're hiding from me,"

He laughs. "Alright, Amberly. You win. I'm not sure if the shipment of guns from Carolina will make it today. Apparently the plane broke down. And it's too far for a car to drive. I don't know what will happen if…" He stops. A corner of his mouth curls up. "You know, just telling you made me calmer already. I think the Prince was an idiot to not choose you."

I shift in my seat. "About that…" I trail off.

"Honey, if you're not ready, you don't have to tell me now," he says gently.

I twiddle my thumbs. I can still hear Maria, the teacher who was in charge of us during the Selection, say that twiddling thumbs are a very bad, un-ladylike habit. I can still hear her yelling about that. I grin, but the smile fades. Robert knows about the Selection, of course, but he told me to tell him only when I am ready to. "No, Rob, I'm ready."

"Okay. You only have ten minutes until we arrive, though."

I tell him about the Selection, how the Prince showered me with kisses, how many times he said "I Love You"—I told him everything. How my heart flew to pieces when he proposed to Macy. "I thought he really loved me. But I guess he didn't."

He glances at me, his eyes still on the road. "How can you still sound calm and not at all heartbroken after all that? I mean, as you know, I caught my former girlfriend, Carrie, cheating on me. She was kissing another man and I heard her tell him she loved him. It took me about a year and a half to completely get over that. Like, no more longing for her, no more moments of sadness. I really loved her, and I thought she loved me, too."

I smile. "Remember I said that my heart can never be whole again, because Clarkson shattered it beyond repair?" He nods. "Well, you changed that. You healed my heart. It's whole again. Every piece that shattered a year and a half ago is back where it belongs, and you even added some pieces that I never knew was missing. I'm beginning to think that I never loved Clarkson as much as I thought I did. Maybe I loved Clarkson with only an eighth of the amount of love I love you with. Wait, um, does that make sense?"

He laughs. "Yes, that makes a lot of sense." Robert stops the car and gets out. I, too, get out and walk to the door, but Robert stops me. "You know, Amberly, you are a very strong woman, to be able to get over that so quickly."

I chuckle. "Well, someone helped me," I reply, hugging him. "Have a nice day and see you at lunch!" Stepping into the building, I shut the door, and wave at my husband through the window.

My heart is whole now. It was never whole before I met Clarkson, but Robert made it whole. I'm glad I hoped that someone whom I love, loves me back. I have my Prince. He may not be the Prince of Illéa, but in my heart, he is a Prince. My Prince. It may not be the perfect fairy-tale ending I envisioned when I made it into the Selection, and then on to the Elite, but to me, this is better than perfect.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! **

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Kiren**

**P. S. If you could meet ONE person-anyone, doesn't matter if s/he's dead-who would you choose? Also, book/movie characters work, too ;)**

**P. P. S. This is the updated version because the list didn't come out the way I wanted to. Sorry about that!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hay guys!**

**This is AU, because America and Maxon got their roles switched. So, America is Clarkson and Amberly's daughter, and Maxon is the middle child of five and of Shalom and Magda. (In other words, America is Maxon and Maxon is America).**

**Reviews:**

**HorseGalFangirl9: Fangirl as much as you want! I don't mind. ;P Taylor Swift seems like a good choice. I mean, come on, you can choose anything! And thanks! And i call you girlie because you remind me of my friend Hannah (maybe it's your username or personality or the amount of fangirling you do?) and we (and another friend) always call each other that ... ;)**

**going for the win: Yea, I know what you mean. I never met my grandpa. He died a few years before I was born. So yea, that's probably my choice, too. Thanks! **

**Theoneforever: America, huh? That's an interesting choice! True, I would too, but I love her fiery personality and stubbornness. That's what makes America herself, right?**

**Happy reading! **

* * *

•Innocence•

"Princess America!" My maid, Anne, says, knocking on the door. "It's time for lunch."

"Thanks, Anne!" I say, putting down the pile of papers I was given this morning and hurry down to the dining hall to eat. My mother gives me a hug and a warm smile before returning to her food. My father ignores me.

"So, America," my mother starts, "How is your day so far?"

"Good," I say, taking a bite out of the sandwich on my plate. Again, my father ignores me.

After an awkward silence, my father stands up. "America, I need to see you in my office later, when you're done with your lunch." He says. Then he leaves without waiting for a reply.

I quickly finish and I walk into my dad's office. "Hello, America." He says. "Are you done with the papers?"

I gulp. "Um, I'm almost done, father."

"'Almost'?" He repeats, slowly drawing out the word to make it into three syllables. "Twenty percent? Fifty percent? Ninety percent?" He asks, sticking his face right into mine. "America, finish it and give it to me by three o' clock TODAY, this afternoon, or else I'll have to give you a little lesson. And you wouldn't want that, would you?" He smiles a sinister smile. He is pure evil.

I feel a shiver run through me. I nod quickly. "Yes, sir," I say. I walk out of his office, but once I am in the hall, I make a break for it. I tear down the long hall, the one with the red carpets and portraits and paintings, and sprint into my room. I slam the door and plop on my chair. I hurriedly finish the stack, review it to make sure I don't have any mistakes, and walk into his office. I firmly knock on the door three times. He opens it. "Ah, America," he says. "I see that you have finished the papers." He glances at the clock, "And with minutes to spare, too. I guess I won't be giving you a lesson, today, hmm?" He chuckles. He dismisses me with a careless wave of his hand.

My heart pounds. I know that I am always at risk of getting whipped by my father. He is ruthless, cruel, cold, and heartless. Today, I probably missed a whipping by him by a mere few inches. Whenever that thought of whipping me crosses his mind, there is no turning back. I am doomed. He will find a fault one way or the other and punish me.

I leave and head down to the Women's Room. I greet my mother with a kiss on her cheek. "Hello, Mom," I say, sitting down next to her. "Hello, Ames." She returns. Her calm voice immediately soothes me. My father may not love me, but my mother does. She's the one who took care of me. How on earth did my mother, my gentle, loving, kind, beautiful, calming mother, end up with a cruel, sinister, cold-hearted, monster of a man?

* * *

"America, you will not be having a Selection. We need to strengthen ties with Swenday and also, we need a Prince to rule. So, I have arranged a marriage between you and Prince Bjørn de Illéa de Monpezat of Swenday. He is the second oldest brother. That way, you and Prince Bjørn will rule Illéa, and that will strengthen the ties between us." My father says, smiling a "pleasant" smile. I know there is a plan. He is never pleasant without a plan beneath that wicked smile of his.

But I've had enough. I am not his puppet. I am his daughter, Crown Princess of Illéa, and future Queen. I will not be a puppet ruler. I refuse to. "Father, no. I refuse to marry to him. I want someone, someone who is Illéan." I blurt out. I mentally slap myself. I'll be getting a beating for sure.

He stops chewing and looks at me. "Well, America, we'll have a little 'talk' later, in my office, about that. How about after lunch? Don't want to interrupt your lunch, hmm?" He smirks at me. "Here, I'll escort you to my office, so we can talk about this right away, to finish it faster, ok?" I have no choice. I'm going to get whipped. There's no way out of it. When my mother is distracted, he shoots a death glare at me. The moment my mother looks back up, he transforms into a little "angel" and "darling father".

He finishes his meal. I too, am finished. "Come, America. Let's have our talk."

My life is hell. I need someone to get me out of it.

* * *

His whips me. Again. "That Maxon boy is nothing but trouble." Another lash. "He is rebellious, stubborn, and not fit to be king. Choose someone else. That Aspen boy, he's a good choice. Choose him." Another lash. I grit my teeth, refusing to scream. I refuse to be weak. I am not a coward. I am strong. _I am strong, I am strong, I am strong,_ I repeat, over and over, in my head.

Finally, after an eternity, he stops. "That's enough of a lesson today," he says, putting the bloody whip away. "But next time, I promise you, the lesson will be harder. That's a promise," he grins at me and shuts the door.

I finally let it go. I let the tears run down my face. The blood trickles—no _gushes_—down my back. I wait until the blood lessens. I throw on my dress and rush into the hall. I need help, _now_. I push open the door and fall on his bed. The blood starts again. I groan. The person who I trust most steps out of his bathroom. "America?" he asks, worry evident in his eyes. "What is it?"

I shake my head and listen for anyone who may be eavesdropping. His maids aren't here. "You must promise not to tell anyone, or you and I both will be sentenced for execution. I pull of my dress and bra. I lay on the bed, my back facing him. He gasps. "Mer, who did this to you?"

"My…my…father," I manage to gasp out. "Help me, clean it, quick."

He complies. "I promise I won't tell a single soul. I promise."

I breathe a sigh of relief. I knew I made the right choice, coming to this boy. "Thank you, Maxon."

"Anytime," he says, softly. He starts to clean my wounds. I hiss at the pain. "Would you normally clean them yourself?" He asks. I nod. I don't know if he can see. It hurts too much. I don't want to talk. But I do. "My maids are sworn to secrecy. And sometimes, they clean it, but they are in the sewing room and I know I can't make it down that far."

Maxon finally finishes. "Good thing I know how to dress wounds." He smiles a crooked smile. He looks at my back again. "He started doing this to you years ago. I can tell by the scars on top of scars." He deadpans. "He stole your innocence."

"I was never innocent. Well, maybe when I was younger, but I can't remember. He stole it from me too early. I could never be a child. I could never be innocent." I whisper, putting on my bloody dress. I start to get up and leave the room.

But he stops me. "Mer, don't. I'll say that you're tired, and that you'll ring for your maids if you get hungry. You need to recover."

I trust that he will do what he says. He starts to play his cello, and the beautiful sound fills the room. It lulls me to sleep. But Maxon's previous words haunt me. I was never innocent. My innocence never existed. That monster—my _father_—took it away from me.

I hate him. I always did, and I always will. But the hate got bigger. Darker.

Because I never got to have an innocent childhood.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Kiren**

**P.S. What is your movie obsession right now? And have you heard "Ghost" by Ella Henderson? I. Love. That. Song. Sooooo. Much!**

**P.P.S. Here's a game. Remember the list Amberly had of her suitors? Well, my former crush's name is in there. If you find it, you will be able to submit a character for a one-shot or my other story.**

**Hint #1: The first letter is from A - G**

**Hint #2: There are no letter repeats in that name **

**Hint #3: It isn't in the beginning or the end of the list, but not really in the middle, either**

**Hint #4: There are many variations / nickanmes to that name**

**Good luck!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hay guys!**

**This is a Lorien Legacies - Selection trilogy mash-up. This is totally random. I was reading the Lorien Legacies fanfiction and ****_ding!_**** this popped into my head. You don't know what LL is about, but of course, knowing about that wouldn't hurt, either. This, in both worlds, are both AU, and modern-time. Well, LL is modern, but anyhow ... yea ...**

**Reviews:**

**theoneforever: Interesting guess ... look below to see if you got it right! Thanks! And DIVERGENT IS PRETTY MUCH MY LIFE! (along with the Selection, Lorien Legacies, THG, Fault in our Stars, etc ...)**

**going for the win: Interesting guess ... as said before, look below to see the winner! Thanks! I don't watch a lot of movies either ... *gives you a high five!* National Treasure? I'll have too google that :D**

**HorseGalFangirl9: Thanks! And interesting guess ... look below ;)**

**Okay, and the winner is ... *drumroll please* ... theoneforever! She guessed correctly and has submitted a character for my other story, The Beginning of the End.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

•They Won't Stand A Chance•

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Crap!" I yell, yanking the covers off. I hit OFF on my alarm. "I'm late!"

I throw on the clothes I wore last night, quickly (but unsuccessfully) run a brush through my tangled, knotted hair, grab my backpack, and rush through the door. "Bye, Kenna!" I yell as the door slams behind me.

I heave my heavy backpack onto my shoulders. Then I make a mad dash for the school. I'm late, I know that. But the later I am, the more consequences there are. School is about 5 miles, or about 8 km, away. I'm screwed. I'm gonna be late, late LATE! I run faster.

But for some reason, I feel different. Stronger, faster. I am not tired yet, even though I am sprinting full force. And I notice I am going fast. Very fast. I never ran this fast before. There is a shortcut to school, although no one ever uses it. It's through a forest. My boyfriend Aspen swears it's haunted. Screw this whole haunted forest business, I'm going taking my chances.

I plunge into the forest. At once, I am lost. I am surrounded by trees, trees, and MORE TREES! "Ugh, I wish the trees would just part themselves." I mutter. It'll take FOREVER to get through the mass of branches. To my utter shock, the trees part. There is just enough space for me to crawl through. I don't care what the heck just happened. I crawl through the masses. Each time, the branches part, beckoning me to crawl through. I am astonished. This is supernatural. Am _I_ causing this to happen?

I decide to wait until later to figure it out. I finally arrive at school with minutes to spare. Even with the shortcut, I know I got here faster than normal.

As I walk down the hall to my homeroom, I keep hearing voices in my head. _Dylan just winked at me!_ One voice squeals. _I can't believe that hunk, Maxon, ASKED me OUT!I_ another screams. That voice is probably Kriss.

One voice stands out from among the rest. _Mer looks really stressed. I better see what the matter is._ Aspen. Sure enough, two seconds later, he comes up to me. "Mer," he says, using his special nickname for me, "are you ok? You seem stressed." I shake my head, indicating that I'm fine. Although, truthfully, I'm not. But I don't want to worry him. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, Aspen. Worry about your AP Calculus Final more," I say, smiling.

"Alright then," he kisses my cheek, "See you in first period." Then he leaves. Turning back, he adds, "And yea, I'm freaking out, about the Final. It's so complicated."

Why do I keep hearing voices? I know I'm not hallucinating. I am hearing what other people are _thinking_. But why? How can I? Is that even possible? It's not normal!

Suddenly, the biggest question of all falls on me: _What am I?_ What kind of human can hear voices in her head and get the trees to part? I can. But no one else. And I ran faster than ever, probably even faster than Brett, the top runner in my class. And he's impossibly fast.

* * *

I hurry back home. Kenna _must _know about this. I know that I'm adopted.

Suddenly, a memory comes. I'm four years old. _"Kitten, this is Kenna." A voice—_my father—_announces. "She's going to take care of you when you are older." I hold out my hand. "Pleased to meet you, Kenna," I say politely,_ or rather, my younger self says_. _

Wait, how do I know that the man speaking is my father? I don't know. But I _do_ know that my four-year-old self knew him as my father. If he was my father, and he loved me, why did he leave? Maybe he died in a car accident … so I got adopted? But he introduced me to my mother, Kenna, _before_ he died. As if he arranged for him to die so I would go to my mom. And I distinctly remember me speaking another language in that memory, one I never heard of before.

Maybe Kenna will know the answers.

* * *

"Kenna?" I ask, dumping my bag on the floor. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the kitchen," she replies. I walk into the kitchen. "Hey, Ames." She greets me. "How was school today?"

"Good," I lie. It was _not_ good, I had to spend the whole day hearing people's perverted minds and stuff. It was horrible! I never knew that my class had so many dirty minds. But I managed to tune it out, or somehow stopped the whole reading minds thing. "Kenna, did my father speak another language?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Um …" I hesitate before continuing. "When I was walking home, a flashback came. My father introduced you to me and said that you were going to take care of me when I was older." My mom drops the spatula she's holding. It clatters onto the floor. She balls her hands into fists, her knuckles turning white. I'm pretty sure I unknowingly forgot to stop the power, because, at once I hear Kenna's voice. _No, it can't be, it can't be! She couldn't have! No! Loridas erased her memories of Lorien until she got her first Legacy; which means she would've gotten her enhancements. Which means … she knows she's different. No, no! How am I supposed to tell her? _

"Uh, Kenna? Who's Loridas? What's Lorien? What's a Legacy?" I blurt out.

She turns to me, shocked. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before answering. "You can read minds?"

"I think so?"

"Okay, you're old enough to know about this. I'm not your mother, you know that. You're not adopted, in a sense. I am your Protector, your Guardian, your Cêpan. You were not born on Earth. There are 18 life-sustaining planets in this galaxy. Lorien is one of them. On Lorien, there are two types of people: Garde and Cêpan. Garde have powers, called Legacies, like your mind-reading. Cêpans have enhanced intelligence, and they are the ones that run the planet. Garde protect it. Loridas is one of the Ten Elders, the most powerful Loric. The Elders are the ones who rule Lorien. All the Elders are Garde."

I am speechless. There are aliens out there? More importantly, _I_ am an alien?

"But I wasn't lying when I said that your birthday was 1995. I just altered your birthday so it would be a few days earlier from your actual birthday."

"Why?" I ask. Why are we here? Why did you alter my birthday? I have a million questions running through my head.

"Hush, Ames," Kenna says, placing a finger on her lips, signaling me to be silent. She continues. "When you were four years old, another race of aliens, called Mogadorians, attacked Lorien. Everyone perished. Only 9 Garde-and-Cêpan pairs and the pilot survived. There were supposed to be ten pairs, but the Tenth one never made it. You, and I, are one of the pairs. I know all of them are alive. Once we arrived, all of us separated. Hiding with only one other person will be easier that hiding with eighteen other Loric. We Cêpans are training the Garde—you kids—so one day, when you are stronger, you will get together and fight them. Lorien will rise again."

"Then why didn't you train me?" I ask in a small voice.

Kenna laughs. "Oh, Ames, I _do_. Those gymnastics class I enrolled you in at a young age? That was to strengthen your body and lengthen your endurance. Plus, being flexible will help when fighting. Track? It built up your speed and strength. Those karate and tae kwon do classes? To help you train hand-to-hand combat. The archery, paintball, and laser tag games I took you to once a week? That was to help with your ability to hide, shoot, and defeat your opponent. The Mogs."

It started to make sense now. Why I had so many after-school activities.

"They haven't found us yet, but they will." She continues. "Soon. The Garde are protected by a charm. Each Garde was named a number. Numbers One to Nine. They are safe until the number in front of them is killed, or if the Charm is broken. Number One isn't protected. If a Garde was about to get killed but the Garde in front of him is still alive, the deed will be done to the one inflicting harm. When a Garde is killed, a scar appears on their ankles. No scars, no deaths." She picks up the spatula. "Now, we have to work on your mind reading."

"And I somehow manipulated the trees, too."

"That's called Chlorokinesis, or plant manipulation. Your mind reading Legacy is called Telepathy. Both your Legacies can be very powerful when you master them and will be an excellent weapon and aide."

"What number am I?" I'm afraid she'll say I'm the first one, Number One, who has zero protection from the Charm.

"You are Number Two. When One dies, you are next. I'll explain all the details later. Remember, don't tell anyone, not even your boyfriend, Aspen. And even there is a hint that the Mogs have found us, we will leave right away, no questions asked, no goodbyes, nothing. We. Leave. Immediately. Okay?"

I nod.

* * *

I know who I am now. I am Number Two. I am Loric.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Kiren**

**P.S. Sorry Maxerica fans. I wanted to be fair so yea, Asperica fans can be happy with this one. But there wasn't any fluff. Y'all know I suck at writing fluffy stuff. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hay guys!**

**I was thinking how Kiera Cass never elaorated on Shalom being a Northern Rebel, so this idea popped into my head, and ****_voila_****, here it is.**

**Reviews:**

**EruditeAbnegationMockinjay: Thanks!**

**HorseGalFangil9: Thanks!**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

•Shalom's Story•

_"__Paz! Wake up!" I yell. _

_"__Nooooooooooooo," he grumbles. _

_"__Yesssssssssss!" I scream._

_"__I'm NOT gonna wake up!" He yells, then into his pillow, he mumbles, "little five-year-old brothers can be so annoying." _

_"__Am not!" I exclaim, jumping up and down on the bed. _

_"__How am I supposed to sleep when you're being a nuisance?" he growls. When I continuing jumping, he groans. "Oh, fine. I'm going to wake yup, I'm going to wake up." He slowly gets out of bed and puts on his clothes. Suddenly, a single gunshot fills the air. Paz drops down on the floor, dead. The man holding the gun puts some more ammo in. _

_"__He took too long to wake up," he says. "This is his punishment. And," a wicked smile forms on his face, "you're next." Then he pulls the trigger._

I shoot up, gasping. It was just a dream. But it seemed so real. So, so real. It felt like it could've actually happened. Except that I'm fourteen, not five.

My older brother, Paz, sticks his head into the room he and I share. "Hey, Shalom, the Commander wants to talk to us. Chop chop, kid. Hurry!" he says. I throw on some clothes and follow my sixteen year old brother to the Meeting room.

"Hello, Paz, Shalom," he says, turning to face us. "I you boys both are on a very important mission. Go back to your hometown and try to find as many people as you can who also believe the same things we do. Find them, see if they are worthy of joining us. If they are, bring them to me, or tell me where they live, who their names are. Et cetera. Am I clear so far?"

We nod.

"Good. This is a difficult job, because the chances of people opening up to strangers are slim. Very slim. This will be a life-long job, and to make it more convincing, both of you, get a job, marry, whatever. Just don't forget why you're there in the first place. You were Fives before, correct?"

We nod once more.

"Go back to your Caste and do whatever you need to do. I expect a report from each of you every two months. And also, see if maybe your children can also become Northern Rebels. It may help. But first, we'll have your last training session now before you leave tomorrow."

Paz and I follow the Commander to the Training room. We step him. I practice my aim, my brother works on his sprinting. I do push-ups, he punches a bag. I run, he lifts weights.

When we are done, we go to our room and start packing. It doesn't take long. We barely have anything with us.

Then we leave.

* * *

I do what the Commander says. Paz and I split ways, promising the other that we won't forget why we are here. I begin to sculpt and paint, Paz … I don't know what he does. I didn't ask. I just concentrate on finding people to join us. Most of those I find are willing, they firmly believe what we believe. They just needed a little push in the right direction. Most of them didn't hesitate to join us.

This is very hard work. I have to make sure they actually _do_ believe. Or else, we will give our location away and get killed. Now, I understand what the Commander said that we had to be very careful.

I wonder how Paz is doing. I haven't seen him in a while.

* * *

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn into years. Twelve years have passed the day I left the Northern Rebel Bases. I am still doing the work the Commander assigned me, although, last time I went there, apparently, we now have a new Commander. Of course, the official Headquarters are too far for me to travel to within a night, so I go to the smaller bases. There are small, unimportant bases situated everywhere in Illéa.

And I still haven't seen my brother.

* * *

Another year passes. This time, I am ordered to go the slightly larger base in Carolina. I need to speak to the Commander in person. I hope I can see Paz again.

I arrive and the guards at the gate let me in. I go into the Meeting room and see two men here. They lift their head at the sound of my footsteps. I recognize one of them. It is the former Commander. The other face, I don't know. "Shalom Singer," the older Commander says, "This is Maxwell Illéa. He is our new Commander. Well, he isn't new anymore, as he has been our Commander for a year already." He corrects himself. "He will soon be the one carrying out all the duties. I will retire soon after."

I nod at Maxwell. I acknowledges me. "Sirs," I ask, "have you had news of my brother?"

They nod, their faces grave. "Yes, Shalom. Paz married too early, before we told him to, and he recently died because there was a problem with his heart."

I sink to my knees. My brother, my kind and loving brother, is _dead_. I think the heart problem is a hereditary disease. Which means I will soon get that and die from it, too.

"We are here, Shalom," Maxwell says, breaking me out of my thoughts, "is to inform you that you have done your duty. You can marry now, but remember to raise at least one child that will follow our beliefs. Perhaps, he will join us one day."

I bow. "Thank you, sirs." I salute them one last time. "I will not forget my mission, sirs." I walk out.

* * *

I smile at my wife, Magda. I see our children, Kenna and Kota, playing. They are not the children I will choose to pass on my beliefs. They are not strong enough. I need a fighter, a stubborn one, a strong child. Maybe our next one will be the One I choose. Maybe.

* * *

I see our third child, our daughter. She is everything I need for the Northern rebels. Even though she is just a baby, I can tell. She is a fighter; she fought her way out of my wife's womb. She is strong, she doesn't cry easily. Of course, I can't tell if she is stubborn yet, but I know it. She is the One I choose. I will guide her to follow my footsteps. She will join the Northern rebels someday. She will hate the Castes. She will make her dad proud.

"What's her name?" Magda asks me, exhausted.

I smile. I know the perfect name for her. "America Singer." A name of defiance to the Castes, a strong name for a fighter, and a name that fits this little baby.

I know that my heart problem will come soon. In a year, maybe a decade—who knows? But I intend on teaching her everything I can and making sure her beliefs are strong, and her hate for the Castes even stronger.

I know she will succeed. I know she will make her dad proud.

Because she is America Singer, a fighter.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Kiren**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys!**

**I know I updated a while ago, but I can't help but upload this! It's pretty cute ... I think? Eh, I'm not good at writing from a little kid's point of view. I wrote this because I was babysitting a while ago, and this idea popped up. Yes, I get most of my story plots in the ****_ca-raziest_**** ways.**

**Reviews:**

**PrincessIndia: Thanks! Okay, I wrote something now :P**

**going for the win: Thanks!**

**Theoneforever: Thanks! Here's the update :)**

**Happy reading! **

* * *

•Why the Rush?•

"Daddy, Daddy!" I exclaim as I come home from school. My _bestest_ friend in the world, Celeste, and me and Jake ride to school in Cel's mummy's super fancy car. Oh, and of course, she drives me and Jake back home, too!

"Hello, sweetie," he says, coming to the front hall to meet me. He wraps me in a big bear hug. I squeeze him back _extra extra _hard. I show him a picture of something I drew in kindergarten today.

"Daddy, look what I drew today," I hold up my drawing of the sky and some birds. It looks beautiful. I hope Mommy likes it. I drew it for her. Tomorrow, I will draw one for Daddy. He will love it. I know it!

"It looks wonderful, honey. 'To Mommy'." He reads. He looks at me. "Do you want to give it to her now or later?"

"Now!" I say, jumping up and down.

"Great, let's go," Daddy swings me up so I sit on his shoulders. "Mommy's in Kurt and Chase's room."

"It's so high up here!" I squeal. "I'm taller than Daddy!"

Mommy comes out of my little brothers' room. "Hi Mommy!" I yell.

She puts a finger to her lips. "Shh, darling. Kurt and Chase are sleeping." Daddy swings me down onto the floor.

I grumpily cross my arms. "But they're always sleeping!" I protest. "When are they going to be awake and _play_?"

"Char, they're really little. The smaller you are, the more sleep you need. The bigger you are, the less sleep." Daddy says.

"So you mean when I'm as old as Jake I don't have to sleep as much?" I ask. That will be so cool!

"Maybe, we'll see." Mommy says.

I hand my drawing to her. "Mommy, I made this for you,"

She takes it. "Wow! It's so pretty!" she exclaims. Yay! Mommy likes my drawing! Mommy takes me by the hand. I am starting to feel tired. Maybe Daddy is right. I'm small, so I need more sleep. I fall onto my bed. Before I completely fall asleep, one last thought comes: _I hope I get to be big one day so I don't have to sleep as much!_

I better be big fast!

* * *

**Cute? Or nah? Tell me in the reviews!**

******P.S. Who's dying right now because it's so hot? ME!**

**-Kiren**


	9. IMPORTANT! MUST READ!

So Sorry, guys!

This is not an update :(

It has come to my attention that i did not tell my readers on my name change, until guest user Gremlins informed me of it. In answer to your question, buddy, this is the same author as "Memories". I just simply renamed "Memories" to "A Journey Called Life". If you want, you can search up Memories. it is not there, because this is the new name. I really appreciate that you read my story, though! :)

Cheers!

-Kiren

P.S. Sawwy for disappointing y'all :(

P.P.S. I will take this down the next time I update ...


	10. Chapter 10

**Hai guys!**

**I'm back with a new one-shot! This one is a bit different. This is a Frozen-Selection Trilogy crossover.**

**All rights belong to Kiera Cass and the creators of Frozen.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

**_~ This story is dedicated to Amanda Morris. Happy birthday, my friend. We love you and miss you! Even I didn't know you for that long, in the short time, you've changed my life forever. We all miss you immensely. Rest in peace, my friend. I will never forget you. ~_**

* * *

•Frozen•

"Psst! Daddy!" A voice cried, bringing him out of his sleep. He ignored it and rolled onto his back. It didn't sound urgent, so he's going back to sleep. He decided to deal with it later.

Maxon was abruptly shaken awake. "Mrrh?" he mumbled.

"Wake up, wake up, wake UP!" A little voice yelled. "Daddy, wake up!"

"Amanda, it's too early." America groaned. "Go back to sleep."

"Mommy! It's NOT too early!" The little girl declared. She flopped down on her father's back. "Oof," he grunted and shifted a little so his daughter would be more comfortable. "The sky's awake. So I'm awake. So I have to _play_!" she cried, rolling of her father's back.

"Okay, Amanda, okay. We'll wake up." Maxon yawned and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. His five-year-old grabbed his arm and tugged it away from his hair.

"Daddy! C'mon, c'mon!"

"Okay, okay, Amanda. We're coming." America said, shuffling to the door.

"Yay! It's snowing! Let's play in the snow!"

"Let's get you bundled up first, sweetie. It's cold out there."

* * *

"Wheeee!" The five year old girl slid down the hills. Her father ice skated with her on the frozen pond. She and her mother built a snowman. "Hello, my name is Olaf!" Her mother announced in an 'Olaf' voice.

Amanda Schreave rushed to hug the smiling snowman. "I love you Olaf!" she exclaimed.

They made snow angels, had snowball fights.

Those days were perfect.

* * *

The day before Amanda's eighth birthday, when the whole castle was asleep, the Snow Queen crept into the little girl's room. This snow Queen was named Elsa. She was furious that they did not invite her to the Princess' christening. So, in order to get revenge on them, she would put a curse on the young girl. Forever. She would be cursed with this horrendous curse 'till the day of her death.

* * *

"Dad? Am I doing this?" the eight year old looked at her hands.

"My darling, yes, you are. But I don't know how," the King said, kneeling down to her height.

Amanda gasped. Snowflakes exploded from her hands and made intricate patterns in the air. She cautiously regained her balance, and the whole floor became an ice rink. She tentatively stretched out her hands, and part of the floor was soon covered with snow.

America came over and brought the little girl some gloves. "This should help," she said softly. "Remember, Amanda: Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show. And most importantly, don't let them know,"

"Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show, and don't let them know," the little girl repeated.

"Good girl," America said, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

Each day, Amanda would secretly practice her special power. It was one no one else had, and it was beautiful. She learned how to control it, to control the amount of snow or ice appeared. The also learned how to hide it so the maids wouldn't notice.

One boring afternoon, when Amanda was idly making ice patterns on a nearby wall, she remembered how, when she was younger, made a snowman called Olaf with her mother. She decided to try that now.

She threw out her hands so a small amount of snow appeared before her. Amanda created the snowman with a carrot nose she stole from the kitchen (shhh!), and pencil arms, googling eyes, and a button mouth. She stepped back and marveled at her masterpiece.

_Cute_.

A knock on the door suddenly interrupted Amanda's snowman-decorating. She hastily hid the snowman, which she decided to call Olaf II, behind her curtains.

"Come in!" She said. Her mother walked through the door and closed it behind her.

"Hello, Amanda." She said. "It's time for lunch." She suddenly noticed the trail of snow on the floor. The Queen's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Amanda Aphrodite Schreave," she started. The eleven-year old girl's eyes widened. Hearing her full name was never a good sign.

"Um, yea?"

"Were you using your powers again?"

Crap.

Busted!

"Uhhh … yea," she said, suddenly interested at her shoes.

But to her utter surprise, her mother bursted out laughing. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Uhh … since I got my powers?" she asked meekly.

"Show me what you did today. And don't fool me. The trail on the floor tells me you are up to something."

Reluctantly, the Princess gently pulled aside the curtain, revealing Olaf II. "Um, here it is. I call him Olaf the Second. 'Cuz, remember our first Olaf?" Not waiting for an answer, she continues on. "So, I decided to name this one after Olaf the first!"

The Queen smiled.

"So … you're not mad?" Amanda questions.

"A little. But I can see why you did what you did. Show me outside, after lunch, okay?"

The girl nods.

* * *

"Wow!" and "Ooh!" and gasps filled the hallway. The few maids and butlers who knew about the Princess' secret, and the King and Queen watched their little princess perform her talent.

She finished by bringing out her snowman, Olaf II. "Mom, Dad, I think we shouldn't hide this secret any longer. I already mastered it. And it's not like it'll go out of control. Please?"

She did have a point.

"Alright," America finally agreed.

* * *

"Are you ready, everyone?" she shouts.

"Ready!" The townspeople yell back.

She sets her foot on the ground, and ice starts to spread everywhere. She blows snowflakes into the air and creates snow piles for everyone to enjoy.

"Wa-hoo!" someone yells and falls into the snow. Another creates a snowman. Amanda looks around.

There is joy everywhere.

* * *

The evil fairy Elsa stared at the happy citizens. _It wasn't supposed to end like this!_ She inwardly screamed. _NO! _

Princess Amanda was supposed to be cursed, not blessed.

But she realized something.

The little Princess didn't need a curse to be happy. She just needed to be herself. And if something bad got in the way, she'd make it good again. That was her true gift.

And she kinda … okay, more like totally … forgot what made her so angry eleven years ago. All the anger for whatever circumstance had long faded.

So there was one thing left to do.

She entered the village.

With her glittering presence, there was no mistaking her. It was a fairy. The citizens parted the way Moses parted the Red Sea. She stepped through and kneeled before their Majesties and Her Highness.

"Please, don't bow, Ma'am, please don't! Rise!" Princess Amanda said, helping the old fairy up.

"Thank you, my darling. Please forgive me. I was the one who evoked that curse on you years ago." Gasps came from all around the square. "Please forgive me, your Highness. I have learned that that is not your gift. Your true gift is the gift of being able to see the best in everything, even in the worst. I gave you a curse, you turned it into a beautiful, unique, powerful gift. Will you ever forgive me, your Highness?" she asked.

Princess Amanda got up and approached the fairy and gave her a hug. "Yes, I forgive you," she said softly, smiling.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Reviews:**

**PrincessIndia: Thanks! Yea, I think all of us are dying. Austin, Texas? My friend used to live there. :P Thanks!**

**going for the win: Thanks! Yea, good observation!**

**Theoneforever: No, it was Char at a younger age. Remember, Jake is her brother, Cel is her best friend, Kurt and Jake were babies, and Sherri wasn't born yet. Thanks! Here's the update!**

**HorseGalFangirl9 (2): Thanks! That was just a clarification. **

**Gremlins: Um, no. It's still the same author. I merely just changed the title. But thanks for reading anyway!**

**-K**

**P.S. Sorry it wasn't so well written. It was really hard for me to write this.**


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